Drug of Choice
by inevitable-patience
Summary: "It's hard to say when I stopped using for fun, and started using to fuel my addiction." Quinn is an addict living in NYC. She has been using to escape her past and lacks motivation to stop, but when Rachel waltzes into her life will she drop the habit?
1. That Broadway Chick

This is an AU story about Quinn's drug abuse and how Rachel tries brings her out of her addiction. It may start off a little subtly with Rachel but eventually they will develop a relationship. How it will end for both of them? I have yet to decide.

If you liked books like_ Crank, Glass, Go Ask Alice_, and_ Tweak_, then you will most likely like this story.  
>My apologizes if there are certain errors in the story. I, myself, do not live in New York, nor do I have a drug addiction. So, bear with me and enjoy!<p>

Warnings: Drug abuse, sex, and swearing.

* * *

><p>It's hard to say when I stopped using for fun, and started using to fuel my addiction. Shit, I mean, if 5 years ago you would have asked me where I imagined myself, I sure as hell wouldn't say where I am now. A druggie, barely making it in New York City.<p>

At least I could admit it, right? That's the first step to solving a problem, admitting it, isn't it? See, that's the thing though, I don't want to stop. I don't have a reason to, and stopping for myself never seemed good enough. Maybe that's because I never seemed good enough.

As much as I wish I could blame my problems on other people, it's me who doesn't have the strength to get clean. Thinking of it now, maybe strength isn't the problem. Maybe, it's motivation.

I sat quietly on a bench in Central Park. Brittany and Santana come here often to feed the ducks. They're an odd couple. Complete opposites in most ways, but boy, do they love each other. They're the only thing that keeps me believing in love. One look at them, and you can't call it anything else.

Brittany's tall, blonde, loving, and a dancer. While Santana is a feisty Latina, who holds a certain distaste towards the world and its inhabitants. Santana got lucky, someone saved her.

I, on the other hand, haven't been that fortunate.

It was getting dark and I decided that I should make a quick stop by my dealer before heading home.

I'd have to call Santana too. She has this weird way of going into panics if she doesn't hear from me ever 6 hours or so. I think it's because she think I'll overdose or something.

We all share a place together. Santana, Brittany, and I. I think it's Santana's way of retribution for getting me into drugs in the first place. I know now that she just wanted to help, and I never thought any less of her for it.

"Excuse me!" I hear a soprano voice call from behind me. I make a 180 and turn to look down at a petite brunette. Her face looks familiar and I realize I've seen her on those Broadway posters around 42nd street. Her name eludes me, but reviewers say she has an amazing voice. I wouldn't know, really. I can't say that in the five years I've lived in New York I've been to a Broadway show.

"Yeah?" I asked, eyeing her. She's pretty, really pretty actually. She has flowing brown hair that's slightly curled and bangs that hang just above her lively, chocolate eyes. Pretty may be an insult. She's gorgeous.

"I was wondering if I could use your phone? I forgot mine at home and I need to phone a taxi." She asks quickly and politely as she looks me up and down. I wonder if she can tell that I'm a user.

They say it takes one to know one, but she doesn't look the part.

"Yeah, sure." I tell her as I pull out my phone and hand it to her. She gives me a bright smile, that breaks all my trains of thought, before turning around and dialing a number.

I guess I have it better than most addicts. I have somewhat of a job. I'm a freelance photographer. My biggest success in life? My picture being published in the New York Daily News. It wasn't a big deal. I was at the right place at the right time and I got a shot of some important protest or something.

The job wasn't much, but it was enough to get my addiction by. The fact that I lived with Brittany and Santana helped out too, I guess if wasn't with them I'd be homeless by now. Getting high was more important than having a place to stay, any addict would tell you the same. It isn't us talking though, it's the monsters.

"Thank you." The brunette says as she hands me back my phone.

"Yup." I tell her as I spin around on my heel and started walking away. I didn't have much time to meet my hook up, I wanted to get home before Santana and Brittany. They don't like it when I come home high. I don't blame them.

"Wait. Do you want to ride with me? I figured if we're going to the same place we could carpool?" Maybe she thought I didn't have enough money for my own cab.

"Where are you headed?"

"49th. I have a late show tonight." She explains, confirming my suspicions of her being that Broadway chick.

"Oh, I'm actually heading towards the Bronx. I have to meet a friend." I tell her, trying not to sound too sketchy.

"I see. Well, that's unfortunate. Anyway, thanks for letting me use your phone. I'm Rachel Berry, by the way." She says, flashing a bright smile and extending her hand.

"Quinn Fabray." I respond as I take her hand into my own. It was cool, soft. She must use a lot of lotion.

I suddenly felt a panic wash over me, it was similar to the panic a junkie feels when he's running out of drugs and money. But this feeling felt worse. I realized that I might never see this girl again. She was just too pretty to let go. So I did something I don't usually do.

"Hey, uh, here's my number. If you ever want to get together for coffee, or lunch or something." I said as I handed her my card. Oh, yeah. Get this, I have a card. It isn't much. It says my name, number, and 'Photography' in large print on the top.

"I most certainly will. It was nice meeting you, Quinn." She says as she walks away.

I really do hope that she calls.

* * *

><p>I hail a cab and get dropped off in the lower Bronx. My boy Puck always has the hook up.<p>

Similar to me, he had some troubles in high school that sent him over the edge. He got a girl pregnant and she gave the child away. She didn't even consider his feelings or the fact that he wanted to be the girl's father.

Beth's her name. It really destroyed him, never being able to hold his daughter again.

I met him through one of my best friends, Sam. Sam and I, we could be twins, in appearance. Personality wise, we're as different as can be. He has never even smoked a cigarette before, let alone shot up heroin or even tried to do meth. He said he never felt the need to and I envied him, in a way.

"My girl." Puck says as he opens the door to his apartment. It smells like bud, not that I mind, of course. He considers himself to be somewhat of a 'ladies' man.' He says it's the mowhawk and I can't help but agree, but there's more than that. He's a good guy.

"Hey, you got my G?" I ask, taking a seat on his couch.

"Fuck yeah. I'm hooking you up so fat." He responds as he shuffles into his room and comes back out with a little white baggie of white crystals.

"You a want a fix? This is pretty generous, even for you." I say as I twirl the bag in my hand.

"I thought you'd never ask." He says grinning as he walks into his kitchen, filling a jar with a thin layer of water. I toss him the sack and he pouts some of the crystals in, crushing them with a spoon until it's all powder. He lights the stove and holds the jar above it until it starts to bubble.

"Go into my room and grab me some rigs, yeah? The clean ones are in a bag on my dresser."

By the time I bring them to him he's already got the two cotton balls soaked in the meth and when I hand him the syringes he empties the substance out into both of them.

He was careful to make sure they both have the same amount before he handed one over to me. I clenched my fist in an attempt to make my veins pop out more before injecting it into my forearm. A problem most junkies develop is that their veins start collapsing and hiding under their skin, making it impossible to get a fix that way. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, that has yet to happen to me.

I cough as I feel the rush and then settle back down on Puck's couch, letting the high take over. I feel good. I haven't gotten my hands on crystal meth in over a week because Puck's dealer was out of town on some druggie business.

"So, why were you late?" Puck asks, laying down on his other couch, across from mine.

"I was in Central Park. And that Broadway girl, Rachel Berry, asked to use my phone." I explained, my mind rushing back to her. It'd be nice if she were here right now. We could kiss and make love, and make all the painful memories go away, at least for the night.

Not that she'd ever touch meth. She seems like a good girl, and she's got a future ahead of her. I'd never let her destroy that.

"Rachel Berry. She a hot Jew, isn't she?" Puck says knowingly.

I feel a little jealous when he calls her 'hot.' I know I shouldn't, considering I don't know her, and Puck doesn't mean it in a bad way. He's just pointing out the obvious.

"I agree. How do you know she's a Jew, though?"

"Rachel and I, we go way back. We went to high school together." Puck explains. I glance over to him and I'm met with a thoughtful looking face, a pained expression crosses his face almost as quickly as it disappears and I know he's thinking about his daughter.

"You guys still talk?" I ask, trying to keep him from thinking about Beth. Nothing worse than a bad high.

"Yeah. I see her every now and again. She comes to check on me, you know, see if I'm still alive and shit." He laughs, but I can tell it hurts him to say that.

I think Puck wants to get clean, but I think he needs certain motivation to do it. Only one things comes to my mind, Beth. If anyone could make him stop, it would be the person that made him start.

"I heard she's good." I offer.

"Good? Rachel Berry is the best. Her voice is like an angel's. It always has been. Even since high school, we all knew Rachel was going to do great things. And she hasn't disappointed, you know?"

"We should go see her show."

"Would you really do that with me, Quinn?"

"Of course." I answer, trying slightly to hide the fact that I'm not doing it for him, not really at least. I'm the one who wants to see her.

"Thank you, so much. You're the best." Puck says as a genuine smile spreads across his face and he gets off the couch to place a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Now, Quinn. As much as I love you, I can't bone you. So you need to get out. Unless you're up for a threesome." Puck says wiggling his eyebrows. I give him a disgusted face as I get off the couch and grab the rest of my meth.

"Ew. I'm out. Have a nice time." I said winking.

"You know I will." He said walking me to the door and closing it behind me.

* * *

><p>The thing about meth is that you can't sleep. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you squeeze your eye lids shut, sleep won't come, at least not until you crash.<p>

I get dropped off by the Hayden Planetarium, only a couple blocks south of Santana and Brittany's apartment. Between Brittany's dance classes and her occasional appearances on Broadway, and Santana's job as a NYPD criminologist they're pretty well off in the money department.

I light up a cigarette and take a slight detour on my way home. I love the city at night, especially when I'm at the peak of my high. It makes it look all the more beautiful.

When I finally walk into the house Santana is sitting at the kitchen table, clearly waiting for me. Or maybe she just got home from work. I think I'll go with the first choice.

It seems more probable that she was waiting for me because she's already in her pajamas.

"Where were you?" She asks, eyeing me suspiciously. I can tell she's tired, yet here she was, waiting for me to come home safe.

"I went to hang out with Puck." I answer somewhat honestly, taking a quick peek at the clock. 3am. I must have lost track of time.

"What did you take, Quinn?" She asked, getting up and walking towards me. Someone's in full mama bear mode tonight.

"That's none of your business, Santana. I'm going to my room. Goodnight." I sigh. I don't feel like having this argument tonight. Hell, I don't feel like having this argument ever again.

It causes unnecessary stress and in the end, it changes absolutely nothing.

"It's not like you'll be getting any sleep." She murmurs and a pang of guilt hits me at the sadness in her voice.

I think she thought I didn't hear, but I did. I know she means well. Both of them do, but what do they know? Brittany always had Santana to protect her and Santana always had Brittany to save her.

I have drugs. For now they save me, even though I know that eventually they'll destroy me.

But I guess that's what I've been waiting for, you know?


	2. The Show

I'm back! I won't usually update this soon with school and everything, but expect updates maybe twice a week? We'll see.

Anyway, a big thank you to all those who alerted and reviewed! Suggestions? Comments? Let me know!  
>Enjoy!<p>

* * *

><p>Puck calls me up on what he claims to be a Saturday afternoon. I couldn't remember where Thursday or Friday went, but that tends to happen from time to time.<p>

I'm in the middle of taking pictures. It's a stunning fall day, my favorite season.

A lot of people wonder why I hold this sort of fascination with taking pictures. I guess since everyone expects a very cliché answer, I'll give them one.

In a way, it give me back the control I lose whenever I stick that needle into my veins. But it's a lot more than that. It gives me power of something beautiful, something very human, memory.

Memories fade as time passes, but pictures can make something so temporary, permanent. The subjects of the photos will leave eventually, die, but their illusion, their image will remain. Even these leaves, they're going to decompose in a matter of days, but in a way, their presence was made permanent as soon as I snapped the picture.

It's quite beautiful, actually.

"You still up for tonight?" Puck's voice sounds through the phone.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. I'll be picking you up at seven. Shower and look presentable, okay?" It's a formal event, I guess. I don't do well at those. Last event I went to was my sister, Francine's, wedding.

We're not close. She's the golden child and I'm just me. I was never a good enough replacement for my parents once Frannie moved out. My parents are a whole different story, one saved for a better time.

"Don't worry I will."

"I'll buy your ticket, if you like." He offers. I think he thinks him asking me to go with him is a nuisance. Maybe I should tell him I'm only going to see Rachel again.

"No, it's fine. Just shoot me up before, yeah?"

"Yeah, deal. See you in 3 hours." He tells me before I hear the click and the line goes dead.

* * *

><p>I step out of the shower and look in the mirror. The drugs have taken their toll on my body over the years. I'm skinny, really skinny. You can see my ribs sticking out through my pale skin, but it's not that bad. I've seen worse.<p>

I wonder briefly how formal Puck expects me to dress. I don't want to embarrassing him, nor do I want to disappoint him.

I end up putting on a light blue cocktail dress that hugs my slim figure in all the right places. It has spaghetti straps and hangs down to my knees. I grab a cardigan from my closet and I'm ready to go. Nothing too formal, but nothing too casual.

"Where are you going?" Santana asks as soon as I walk out of my room. Her and Brittany are snuggling on the couch watching some Disney movie on the big plasma in the living room. I'm guessing it was Brittany's idea, because everyone knows Santana can't say 'no' to her.

"I'm going to a Broadway show." I tell them honestly, but Santana looks at me skeptically.

"Which one?" Brittany asks, excitement evident in her voice. And she's out of Santana's arms, sitting up on the couch.

"Uh- Spring Awakening?"

"Oh my! I heard it's really good. That Rachel Berry girl is suppose to be amazing." She gushes. Brittany has always had a love for the performing arts, whether it was dancing, singing, or theater.

"I've heard. Puck knows her. So, I'm going with him to see the show."

"Okay. Well, if you don't plan on coming home tonight could you please call me and let me know?" Santana asks. I know she's worried. She won't admit it, but I know. That's why I agree. I promise I'll call. I hope I don't forget in the rush.

"You look gorgeous." Puck tells me as he gets out of the cab to open the door for me. He gives me a light peck on the cheek. I don't feel pretty, let alone gorgeous.

I tell him that he looks good, because he does. He's wearing grey dress pants with a black dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and he's got on dress shoes. It all looks expensive and I wonder briefly where he got the money for it.

We get dropped off a block from the O'Neil theater. Puck and I walk into an alley behind Gino's Pizza and he pulls out two syringes from his pocket, they're in a plastic bag, ready. He shoots himself up and then motions for me to stick out my arm.

Puck's good, almost too good. There is something erotic about the way he gently slides the needle directly into my vein. I cough, and as soon as the chemicals reach my brain I feel gorgeous, beautiful even. I guess that's the point.

"There she is." Puck says as we take our seats. There is a sort of pride in his voice. And the admiration is evident on his face as soon as she starts singing. There's an eerie silence in the theatre and then her voice cuts through. Pure and powerful. I've never heard anything like it.

She transforms me into 19th century Germany and I can't keep my eyes off her. Everyone else is a blur.

If I could lock her in a cage and make her sing for me for the rest of my life I would. That's probably not the best idea though.

I'm not quite sure what the show is about. I haven't been paying attention to anyone but her. Puck starts telling me about how the boy that plays Melchior, who ever that is, use to date Rachel. They were together for a while and everyone thought Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James would be the Jay-Z and Beyonce of Broadway, until he came out that is.

Knowing that the boy's gay made me feel a bit better about him kissing Rachel on stage. As soon as her breasts appeared I had to look away. Don't get me wrong, I love women's bodies, but this isn't how I want to see her, in a theater surrounded by other people. I want to see her when it's just me and her, in the heat of the moment.

"You were right. She's amazing." I tell Puck after the first act is over. I don't think truer words have ever been spoken. I can feel the happiness radiating off of him.

It's dark when a stage light is turned on to illuminate her petite figure. She looks almost like an angel, wearing a white gown that reaches to her ankles. The only thing she's missing is a halo.

In a chilling voice she begins and it feels as though she's baring her soul, putting everything into the song. Pain, heartbreak, love. It's breathtaking.

"_Little miss didn't do right, went and ruined all the true plans. Such a shame."_

It makes me think of me and my parents and Frannie. My dad, he had everything planned out for me. He wanted me to get into an ivy league school on a cheerleading scholarship and become and lawyer or a doctor. I could have been either. I'm smart enough, or maybe I was.

It is a shame, but there's no going back now. To be honest, I'm not sure if there's any going forward either.

* * *

><p>After the show Puck asks if it's cool with me if we go see her. How can I say no? I want to see her, maybe just as much as he does. Maybe more.<p>

I'm confident and lively, and I know it's not Quinn that feels bold. She's actually nervous and her palms want to sweat but the drug won't let her show such weakness.

Puck tires to explain to the security guard that he knows Rachel, but the man refuses to let us in. I wonder if she has crazed fans that try to just walk into her dressing room.

Finally the guy does as Puck asks, and goes to tell Rachel that Noah Puckerman is here to see her. The guard comes back a couple minutes later, apologizing profusely for doubting him and leads us to one of the back rooms.

"Noah!" She exclaims as she leaps into his arms. She has had time to change out from her Wendla costume and is now wearing jeans and a white dress shirt. Her hair is swept up in a loose pony tail. She's not wearing any heels and I get a sense of how short she really is. It's cute, really cute.

"It's so good to see you baby girl." He tells her, returning the hug tightly and lifting her off the ground.

"When Jay told me some guy named Puckerman was here to see me, I almost didn't believe him. Then he threw in the fact that you have a mowhawk and I knew it was you." She says as she lets go of him and he settles her back onto the ground.

"And you're Quinn, from yesterday. I didn't know you knew this psycho." She smiles laughing. Her laughter isn't what you might expect from someone with such a clear voice. It's loud and obnoxious and I can't help but love it.

"I didn't think_ you_ knew this psycho." I joke as Puck sticks his tongue out at me.

"Hey, now. Why am I the psycho. You're all just as crazy as me." He says, raising his hands in the air, joining into our laughs.

"You look good, Noah. Very healthy. And the outfit? I love it." She says looking him up and down.

"I'm pretty well off." He tells her. I'm assuming that since his dealer came back he's been getting pretty fat hook ups. Puck gets a text message and frowns.

"You were amazing, Rach. Really, but I guess I shouldn't have expected anything less from you. I have to go. Business." He explains lamely as he gives her a kiss on the cheek.

"Are you leaving too?" She asks looking at me. I'm speechless for a second, not quite sure if this is a nice way of giving me the hint to get the fuck out.

"I -uh. I don't really have anywhere to go. I could leave though, if you're busy."

"No, no. Stay, please. I actually have to wait for my friends Kurt and Jesse to finish their preparations for tomorrow's show. So, I have time to kill."

"In that case, you ladies have fun." Puck tells us, offering me a wink as he leaves the room. What a pig.

"You up for that coffee?"

* * *

><p>After Rachel grabs her bag she leads me out the back. I'm oddly excited, it's just coffee, but it's coffee with her.<p>

"Sorry." She says as we are met with flashing lights. I briefly wonder if she's apologizing because she thinks it's tweaking me out.

"Don't apologize. If I wasn't going to grab some coffee with you I would be doing the same." I tell her truthfully.

"How come?" She laughs at my compliment and stops to sign some autograph. They look at her with adoring eyes, I wonder if that's how I look right now.

"You're amazing. You're going to be really big someday, maybe even in Hollywood, you know?" I can see it happening. She has the talent and the looks are just a plus.

"I'm not pretty enough." She contradicts me. I'm a bit taken back by that and I look to her for an explanation but she ignores my look and takes a picture with a little girl.

"Marry me, Rachel!" Someone yells out.

"Where's my ring?" She shouts back playfully and everyone erupts into laughter.

"How come?" I finally ask. My curiosity getting the best of me. If the cat really only had 9 lives I'd be dead by now.

"That's just what previous managers have told me. I can sing, sure, but I don't have that Hollywood glamour." They must be blind.

"Who ever told you that is an idiot." I don't think she agrees with my assumption.

"Do you mind if I finish signing?"

I shake my head 'no' and watch as she carries on. She chats with as many as she can, and a few lucky fans even get a picture. I can't help but crack a smile. Just looking at her I can tell that this is where she belongs. This is what she's suppose to be doing.

"That's pretty crazy." I tell her when we finally settle down in a café, a little less than a block down from the theater.

"It is, but I love it. I've been chasing this dream ever since high school and here I am, finally living it. I couldn't ask for anything else. Though the hours are long and I don't have time to do a lot of things I'd like to." She tells me after ordering herself a black coffee and a slice of vegan pie. I'm not hungry, so I settle for a diet coke. I sort of have an unhealthy obsession with that stuff.

"Like what?" I ask her. She looks thoughtful for a second before answering.

"Like going to the zoo."

I laugh. What a simple, childish answer. I didn't expect it.

"I'm serious!" She exclaims reaching over the table to playfully slap my shoulder, it only makes me laugh more.

"Why the zoo?"

"I love animals!"

"Fair enough." I tell her as the waitress brings our order.

"So, how long have you known Noah?" Rachel asks as she sips her coffee.

"Five years, but we didn't really start being friends until three years ago. He said you went to high school together?"

Puck and I met at one of his infamous parties. Sam didn't want to go alone, so he dragged me with him. The second Puck saw me, he knew. He told me he dealt and if I ever needed a hook up I had to look no further.

That's all our relationship was for two years, with the occasional conversations. Then one night he overdosed on heroin and I was the only one smart, or maybe sober enough, to call the paramedics. I was the first person he saw when he opened his eyes in the hospital. After that we became tight. I think he feels as though he's somehow in my debt for saving his life.

"Yes, we did. We were in the glee club together." She answers, laughing at memories.

"Puck? In a glee club?" I ask. I know the boy has a passion for music, but he never mentioned that he was apart of a glee club.

"Weird, isn't it? We actually won nationals our senior year. We were good."

"With you as the lead singer I don't doubt that."

A slight blush colors her cheeks as she mutters a quiet 'thank you.'

"You said you met him five years ago? Is that when you moved to New York?" She asks offering me a piece of her vegan pie. I shake my head and she nods as though she understand and pops it into her mouth.

"Yeah. I came here for school with a couple of my best friends. Brittany, Santana, and Sam."

"Brittany Pierce? The dancer?"

"That's the one."

"She's amazing. I saw her in Chicago!" Brittany's going to be ecstatic when I tell her that Rachel knows who she is.

"Yeah. She is. She's actually a fan of yours. She totally freaked when I told her I was going to one of your shows."

"Are you two close?"

"Yeah, I live with Santana and Brittany. I'm kind of the third wheel."

"We should all go out to dinner one night. Me, you, Noah, Brittany, and Santana. Your friend Sam should come too! And I'll bring Jesse and Kurt. It'll be fun!"

"That sounds like a great plan, but I fear for the safety of Puck."

"Why?" She laughs.

"Santana and him don't really get along. She doesn't think he's a good guy for me to hang out with." Santana regularly expresses her distaste for Puck. She doesn't like it when I hang out with anyone that has any access to drugs. She thinks that if I stop hanging out with dealers I'll stop using but New York is a big city.

"Because he uses." She states.

"Yeah." I answer, I figured she would know.

"How long have you been using?" She asks me nonchalantly. I look at her a little shocked. This I wasn't expecting.

I don't know whether I should answer. I don't want her to think any less of me, but if she knew this whole time and still came out to coffee with me she must be okay with it, right?

"What makes you think I'm a user?" I ask lamely. She looks me in the eyes and I know that if it wasn't for the meth I would have looked away.

"It's in the eyes." She tells me. And I guess that makes sense.

"Oh." I say. I want to be ashamed, but the thing about drugs? You can't find a way to give a fuck, even if you want to. And I really want to.

"I'm not going to judge you. Everyone has different ways of dealing with their problems." She tells me as she slides her hand across the table to place it over mine.

I catch my breath. It's such a simple gesture, but there's a certain intimacy that comes along with it. It's not something I'm use to, but I take breathe and look down at her hand.

"What's yours?"

"That's a story for a different time." She wasn't a user. I knew that for a fact, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Maybe she was sex addict in high school. Possible? Sure. Probable? Not really.

She traces light circles into the back of my hand and I have to tear my gaze from our hands to look up into her eyes.

"I smoked my first blunt in high school, sophomore year. And the rest was history." I tell her, a bit surprised at my admission. Was that suppose to come out?

"Why'd you do it?"

"My friend Santana, she did it as a fun getaway. She's gay, and at the time she couldn't deal with it. She was scared, you know? I mean we lived in Jackson, Ohio. It isn't the most accepting town for gays or lesbians."

"I know what that's like. I lived in Lima, actually. What happened after?"

I hesitate, but I decide to take a chance.

"Well, we moved here, to New York. And here everything's better for Santana and Brittany. Everyone's real accepting. She stopped and I just kept going. Doing bigger and better things. First came the weed, then the ex, then the coke, and then everything else, I guess." I could have lied, but I was sick of lying. At the same time, I wanted her to know about me. I wanted to share myself with her, and honesty is the best way to do that, I think.

"Have you ever considered stopping?" She asks, ceasing the circles she's tracing and taking a tight hold of my hand.

"Nope." I answer truthfully without even taking a second to think about it. I don't need a second.

That's when her phone rings and she sighs, letting go of my hand and retrieving it from her back. My hand feel automatically cold, and I want to feel her fingers against the back of my hand once again.

She mutters a 'hello' and then tells the person she'll be right over.

"That was Jesse. They're done, and I have to go." I don't want her to go.

"Oh, alright. Have a nice night then."

"I have double show tomorrow, but I'm free on Monday, if you would like to do lunch or something?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Call me whenever you're free." I say as a smile creeps onto my face. I'm trying really hard from looking like a school girl with a crush but I doubt it's working because she giggles as she throws a 20 on the table, waves me goodbye and walks out.

The check is only 9, and 7 for her portion. I can't tell whether or not she pities me or if she's the kind to leave big tips for waitresses. I decided to leave the money for the waitress and I leave into the cool night.

I can hardly wait for Monday. It's a weird concept for me, being excited for the future, I haven't been in years.


	3. Friendly Date

A big thank you to everyone who has taken interest in this story!

Enjoy!

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><p>It's cold. That's the first thing that comes to my mind when I step outside. It's an odd feeling, being cold. The high usually keeps me warm, but I haven't shot up today.<p>

Why? I guess you could say it has something to do with Rachel. I want to remember our time together through my real eyes, not the manipulated ones. They cloud my vision too much and today, I want to see clearly.

Sam calls me and asks me where I am. I tell him that I'm just walking down 45th because I have time to kill. He tells me that's great and to stay where I am because he's coming. I take a seat on a nearby bench and just close my eyes for a second, trying to block out the noises of the city.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes I just like the quiet.

"Hey, sweetheart." Sam says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. He's one of the best guys I know, scratch that. He might be one the best people I know, period. He's probably one of the few people who have yet to give up on me. I don't think he ever will and I can't help but wonder whether or not that's a good thing.

He's a charmer, equipped with boyish good looks and dazzling smile that any girl, or guy, could fall for.

Sam and I dated for a while. We never really loved each other in that way though. I guess if you're desperate enough to be loved, you'll look for it anywhere. Even if it's in all the wrong places, even if it will hurt you in the end. I hurt him. I didn't mean to, but in a lot of ways I was a very different person in high school.

"Hey, Sam." I say with a smile. He brought me coffee. This is one of the things I love about him. His thoughtfulness.

"How are you, babe?" He asks taking a sip and sitting down next to me.

"I'm doing well. How about you? How's football?" Sam's one of the best football players I know, not that I know much about football. He coaches a youth football league. I've heard from Santana and Brittany that they're pretty good. He loves the kids, but his real dream is playing in the NFL. I hope it comes true one day, there's no one more deserving.

"It's going really good. The kids are really enjoying it, you know? It's awesome." His face lights up and he launches into stats and how hard they are working, preparing for championships. He goes into detail about plays and I have no idea what he's talking about but I smile and nod, because that's what friends do.

"That's good." I tell him when he finishes because I don't have any intelligent comments to make.

"We have a game today! Come. It will be so much fun."

"I wish I could, Sam. I actually already have plans." I tell him and his face falls a little. He frowns and I briefly think he's thinking that I'm choosing drugs over him.

"No, no. It's nothing like that. I'm actually going out with someone. Kind of, not really. I don't know, but I just have plans already." I don't really know what to call mine and Rachel's date, day? Not that labels really matter. I never had a thing for them anyway. Labels leave nothing to the imagination, and as a photographer I just can't stand that.

There should always be room for interpretation.

"Oh, Quinn has a date! Who with! Tell me all about her." Sam's grin returns. He was the first person to ever learn my, at that time, secret. I just sort of blurted it out to him during a make out session. He stopped completely, slid his body off of mine and just looked at me, his expression blank.

He didn't say anything at first, just sat on the edge of my bed. Thinking back to it now, it must have shocked him pretty good. I tried apologizing, but he just shook his head and then finally, he smiled.

He kissed my cheek and disappeared out of my room. When he came back, he had two bowls of ice cream and The Notebook in his hands. We watched that stupid movie and must have cried half the night, holding each other, and revealing all our deepest and darkest secrets without hesitation.

That's the kind of guy Sam is. You can tell him practically anything without receiving any sort of judgement. He has this presence to him that makes you want to open up.

"Well, her name's Rachel Berry. She's really pretty. And get this, she's on Broadway."

"Broadway?" He asks, irking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, weird right?"

"I didn't pit Broadway stars as your type." He says laughing when I slap him on the shoulder.

"I don't have a type."

"Sure you don't babe, sure you don't."

"What does that mean?" I ask him.

"Nothing, babe. I want to meet this girl." He winks.

"She wants us all to go out to dinner."

"And that's a good idea? Reuniting Santana and Puckerman?"

"Probably not." I answer honestly. I don't see how it could be. They're too much alike to like each other.

"But you're still going to go through with it?"

"Yup." I answer, not yet sure about how I'm going to pull this off. Maybe if we throw a big enough party there will be less of a chance that they will run into each other. Or maybe, I could just ask Santana to behave herself for a night. Not likely. Better yet, I could just ask Brittany to keep her girl on a short leash for that night. That might actually work.

To Santana, Brittany's word is law.

"That's my girl. Well, it's 3. I have to coach in 30 minutes. Good luck on your date, babe." He says, kissing my forehead.

"It's not a date." I remind him, but I really hope it turns out to be.

"Whatever." He says, smirking over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>She looks gorgeous as ever when I pick her up at her place in the Upper East Side. It's a nice apartment, smaller than Santana and Brittany's, but that's most likely due to the fact that she lives alone. She has on a stripped overcoat, in contrast to my black jacket. I don't wear anything colorful anymore, not really. It's as though I lost the innocence to do that.<p>

"Good afternoon, Quinn." She smiles at me once she steps into the cab.

"Hey, Rachel." I say and I can't help but feel filled with happiness. It's odd how that one person can make your day with something as insignificant as a smile.

"So, where are we going? You haven't told me anything yet." She asks excitement evident in her voice.

"That's because it's a surprise."

"A surprise? I've lived here for 5 years. I think I've seen it all." She says matter-of-factly.

"That's why you're going to close your eyes."

She looks at me skeptically. I would be hesitant to close my eyes if I happened to be in the car with a junkie I barely knew too.

"Just trust me." I tell her, trying to be reassuring.

"Would you trust you?"

"Probably not." I answer honestly. I can't trust me, but that doesn't mean that she can't.

"Then why would I do that?" She teases.

"For me?" I ask, grinning as she rolls her eyes. It works in all the movies, so I figured I would give it a go.

"This better not be some plot to kidnap me and hold for a 3 million dollar ransom. Because I assure you, no one in my family possesses that much money." She jokes, and I know she isn't worried about her safety. It makes me feel better about myself knowing that.

"Below 3? And here I thought I could get 7. What a bummer." I laugh.

"I think you'd need to kidnap Angelina Jolie for 7."

"Psh. You think they'd get her back?"

She questions me the whole 15 minutes of the ride. I tell her that I can't tell her or it will ruin the surprise. I even told the driver of the cab to take a few misleading turns, not too many of course, taxi rides are expensive, but enough to screw up her sense of direction.

I open the door and step out of the taxi, grabbing her hand in the process and helping her out. She stumbles slightly but doesn't open her eyes.

"Quinn." She whines. It's not annoying though, it's rather endearing. And I can't help but smile at the fact at how tightly she's still holding my hand.

"Almost there." I tell her as I lead her through the gate at Central Park Zoo. I had the lady the money for our entrance fee and let go of Rachel's hand, stuffing it in my pocket instead.

"You can open your eyes." I say and when she does, she looks like a kid in a candy store. Her eyes seem to light up and her mouth drops open a little bit.

"You're taking me to the zoo?" She asks in awe, even jumping up and down in excitement.

"Yeah. Well, you mentioned that you haven't had the time to go, so I figured we could go together. I mean if you don't want to we can just go to -"

"No, no. This is just amazing. I don't think anyone has ever done something so thoughtful for me, ever."

"It's whatever." I say scratching the back of my neck, I'm not use to the compliments.

"Come on, Quinn! Let's go see the zebras, I love them." She says, sticking out her hand and waiting for me to grab it, before pulling me in their direction.

"Why zebras?" I ask once we arrive at their cage. I'm somewhat our of breathe from the run. I wasn't running, I was being dragged along while she ran.

"I love horses, so zebras are like the next best thing. Plus, I like their stripes." She tells me as she stand on the bottom railing to get a better view of them. It's in one word: adorable. She looks almost like a child, she sure is the size of one.

"I've always love Siberian tigers." Standing next to her and looking out at the zebras. They're a lot bigger than I remember. Granted, I haven't been in a zoo since elementary school.

"How come?"

"They're powerful and there's this sort of beauty about them."

"Your tiger could kill my zebra in no time." She says, a playful smile spreads on her face, but her eyes stay serious. I get the feeling that we're not talking about animals anymore.

"They would never get close enough, they're from different parts of the word."

* * *

><p>After we literally run around the zoo about two times she's satisfied and we decided to grab a bite from a nearby food joint. We have a pleasant lunch. She orders a salad, confessing to me she's been a vegan since birth. I admire her for that. I don't think I could ever give up real chocolate chip cookies, or pizza. I love pizza.<p>

Anyway, we mostly discuss Spring Awakening. She think that's it's her big break. It's her first role as a main character and she couldn't have imagined a better one. I try to keep the conversation focused on her, because I don't really want to talk about myself.

I'm afraid I'll say too much. This Quinn, the clean one, doesn't know what to say, when to say it, or when to keep her mouth shut.

"You're clean today." She says once we get up and start walking towards the exit.

"Yeah." I confess.

"How come?" She asks, biting her lip. I'm momentarily distracted by her display. Just momentarily though.

"I- uh. I thought you might appreciate it, if I was."

A genuine smile appears on her face. And it makes my heart flutter. You know that feeling? The one in your stomach? I never really liked calling it 'butterflies' but that's what it feels like.

"Thank you, Quinn. It means a lot, especially since I know it must be hard for you."

I shrug it off and decide to keep quite because I don't want to tell her about how it was really all for her.

"So, what did you study in college?"

"I started off with Pre-law."

"Pre-law?" She asks with a blink. She wasn't expecting it, most people don't.

"Yeah, I was pretty smart back then." I joke.

She thinks about it for a second before answering, "I think you're still smart, Quinn."

I don't necessarily agree with her assumption. Maybe I'm not dumb. But I can't call myself smart. Smart people fight their vices.

"Yeah, well. I studied pre-law for two years, to keep my father happy, but then I realized it wasn't something I ever really wanted. I was just trying to keep him and my mother happy. I dropped it and started photography."

"Your parents didn't support that?"

"No, they always had these big plans for me, but they weren't really meant for me. They were more for them, so that they could brag about both their daughters."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, her name's Frannie. We're not that close though. How about you? Do your parents support your career choice?" I ask, trying to change the subject. I don't really want to get into Frannie or my father. She must sense what I'm trying to do, but she doesn't purse the topic any further.

"I'm an only child, my dads always supported my singing. I've always been their star. They're actually flying out in a few weeks so come see me on stage."

Her face lights up when she mentions that they're coming to see her. She must miss them a lot. They must have been one of those happy families. The ones that talking about feelings, and loved each other above everything else.

I find myself briefly wishing for that kind of family, but I quickly push those thoughts aside.

"That's awesome. It's good that they support you."

"They've always pushed me, but I don't think I would be where I am today without great friends. Kurt and I we were always sort of rivals back in school, but junior and senior year we got real close and decided there was bigger competition out there than ourselves. Jesse and I could have had it all." She laughs a little as though she's remembering some inside joke from all that time.

I find myself wanting to know all about it. Maybe one day I will.

"And Puck always kept an eye out for me. He's always been very protective."

"Puck's that kind of guy." I say, thinking back to all the time that Puck has saved my ass, even if it was at his own cost.

"He's the reason I stopped getting slushy facials."

"Slushy facials?" I ask, already not liking the sound of it.

"You know those big gulp drinks you get at 7 eleven? Well, some kids at are school would walk around throwing them at the 'losers.'" She shakes her head and there is a glimmer of pain in her eyes that disappears as quickly as it appeared.

What? Who the fuck does that? Who in their right mind would throw a drink into someone else's face? That's just rude, and not at all creative.

I don't like these people, who ever they are and I can't help but feel some sympathy for Rachel. Even though she turned out a lot better than those Lima losers must have, it hadn't been easy. It makes me admire her that much more.

"That's horrible." I finally say.

"It was, at the time. Now thinking back to it, I guess it could have been a lot worse." She shrugs.

"I guess, but it still isn't right."

"No, but I could have been like Kurt. He got bullied all the time, he was the only out gay kid at our school."

"Kids can be stupid."

"Kids can be ignorant." She agrees. We've reached the end of the zoo, by 5th avenue. She waves for a taxi and it stops right in front of us.

"Thank you for a wonderful time, Quinn. I don't think I've had this much fun in a while." Rachel tells me with a grin as I open the door for her. How chivalrous of me.

"Me neither."

"I'll call you later." She says with a grin as she throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. I wrap my arms around her waist lightly. I have to restrain myself from pulling her closer, I don't want to overstep my boundaries. I like the feeling of her body pressed against mine. It's not a feeling I'll forget quickly.

Too soon she lets go and just like that she's gone.

* * *

><p>I stop by the house to get my camera. Santana and Brittany are out, probably on a date. I find that reassuring.<p>

I try not to think about Rachel as I a snap pictures of random buildings and people. None of them seem beautiful enough, because none of them compare to her.

It's what I would call 'later' and she hasn't phoned me yet. It's scares me how much I was really hoping for her to call me. I haven't know her long enough to care, have I?

Maybe I just have an addictive personality, it would explain the drugs.

I'd call her, but I don't want to see obsessive. That's be weird, I don't want to creep her out, but what if I already did? What if she had a terrible time?

I mean, who the fuck takes a girl out to the zoo on a first date? Friendly get together? Maybe she hasn't called because it wasn't a date.

I probably made up everything in my head, wouldn't be the first time.

I can't think about this right now. I can't think about her. I take out my cell and call Puck. Luckily for me he's going to be home in ten minutes. He sounds angry. Something must have gone down, and I know he needs this fix just as much as I do.

I send Santana a text saying I'm going to be staying the night at Puck's and telling her not to worry. I catch a cab and try not to get impatient as we stand in traffic.

When I walk into his small apartment he's already in the kitchen, cooking up the best meal known to man.

"Hey." He greets me simply.

"Bad day?" I ask.

"Beth."

"And you?"

"Rachel."

Puck and I never really need to have lengthy conversations about our feelings because we read each other fairly well.

He injects the needle into my vein and I cough, feeling the chemicals pass through my system. He does the same to himself before we both settle down on his couch. He throws an arm around my shoulders and turns to face me. I shrug and he nods in understanding.

We sit together and just think. I think, in a way, we're thinking the exact same thing. Wondering how we ended up as fucked up as we are.

When did it all go down hill? Why wasn't I strong enough to face my family? Why am I never good enough?

Do you ever just sit in silence, and wonder about all the things you'll never be able to tell anyone?

I use to, but now it's different. I want to tell her. I want her to know who I am, who I was, who I planned to be before.

And who I plan to be after.


	4. The Fray

Here is chapter 4!  
>Thank you for all the reviews and alerts, they never cease to make my day.<br>Next week is kind of a crazy week for me, but expect another update on Sunday. Possibly earlier.

Otherwise, enjoy!

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><p>When I wake up I don't know where I am or what day it is, let alone the time. The first thing I realize is that I feel like shit, not that I usually feel well after a crash, but right now seems so much worse than other times.<p>

My whole body aches. I wince as I stretch because all my muscles burn. Somewhat like how they burn after an intense workout, but this hurts worse and I don't like it. I cough and my whole body throbs. I finally fight through the pain and sit up, rubbing my eyes as they adjust to the sunlight coming through the blinds.

I'm under beige colored sheets, wearing a t-shirt that is much too big for me and pajama pants. I squint as I look around the room, eyeing football posters and pictures of me, Sam, Santana, and Brittany. There are even some of Sam and Puck and I finally recognize where I am. Sam's bedroom.

I feel somewhat relieved as I fall back into the sheets. I've waken up in far worse places and the smell of bacon and pancakes fills the room as the door creeks open.

"Good morning, sunshine." Sam says as he sets a tray of food on my bed. He gives me a quick peck on the head, before settling down right next to me with his coffee. He leans against the headboard and helps me do the same.

"What happened?" I ask, groaning as my head throbs from getting up. I eye the food and suddenly I'm no longer hungry. Instead, I feel nauseas and I settle the food down onto Sam's nightstand.

"Puck called me last night and said that you passed out. He has work today and he didn't want you to be alone, so he called me to come get you."

"Puck only works on Wednesdays." I point out as I reach for my coffee and take a sip. Coffee always makes me feel better.

"It is Wednesday, babe." Sam frowns slightly.

At first I don't really care. Another day gone, good. Then the realization hits me.

"Oh. Oh my fucking god. Santana is going to skin me alive. I'm dead. Just kill me now." I groan and cover my head with the covers. Sam chuckles and I look up to see him shaking his head.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't let her do that. I called her and told her you were staying over mine to catch up on the newest Modern Family episodes."

"You're a life saver, you know what?" I say grabbing his face and placing a big, wet kiss on his cheek.

"I've been told so, but gross." He says grinning as he wipes his cheek.

"Whatever." I say sticking out my tongue and grabbing my phone from the nightstand.

"Rachel called you. Twice, actually." He says, a smile creeping up on his lips.

"Really? What did she say? Did you pick up? Did she ask about me?" I ask, my heart suddenly speeding up and suddenly, Sam has all of my undivided attention.

Sam chuckles before answering.

"I picked up the first time and she was rather happy about that until I told her I wasn't Quinn. I introduced myself and she seemed to know who I was. Then she asked me where you are, to which I answered that you fell asleep during one of our movie marathons. That was late Tuesday night. She called today too, but I was out. She left you a voice mail though."

"Thanks, Sammy." I tell him, and I can't help but smile. Maybe she does care, at least maybe enough to call.

"Alright, babe. Your cloths are in the bathroom, washed and ready. Go shower and if you want you can chill here for a while, but I have practice, so I'll see you later." He says placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving me to my thoughts.

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><p>You know those people who are scared of mirrors? The ones that will never look into them in the dead of night, for fear that they will see something else staring back at them?<p>

I'm not scared of them, per se, yet sometimes the image I see inside it does. I look tired, worn out, much older than my years.

The bags under my eyes are purplish and it looks as though I haven't slept for weeks. I wonder what happened to Prom Queen, Quinn Fabray. She was so much prettier back then, saner too.

After I've changed and dried my hair I settle down on Sam's coach and turn on the television. I'm not really paying attention to it because I'm dialing my voice mail.

"Hey, Quinn. It's Rachel. I had a really fun time at the zoo and I called you, but your friend picked up and said you were asleep. Anyway, I'm really busy this whole week, but if you want you could come by the theater any time from ten to three. Our shows don't start till seven, but I think I might have some leeway before that. Oh, I'm rambling. Uh, yeah. Well, if you want I'll be there. Okay, bye!"

I found her rambling quite cute, not that she isn't cute as a whole, but there was something about her nervousness that I found endearing.

The taxi drops me off right in front of the Eugene O'Neil Theater. Do I just walk in? I guess so, the door is open. A couple janitors give me strange looks but most of them ignore me. They must think I'm a homeless bum, looking for shelter from the cold. At least I don't smell bad.

"This is a private rehearsal." I hear a voice call from behind me just as soon as I'm about to open the doors to the main showing room. I don't have the strength to have any arguments so I let go of the handle and turn around, ready to explain myself.

I look closely and recognize the boy as Jesse, Rachel's friend and the actor that plays Melchior. He's attractive and I can imagine how well him and Rachel must have looked together.

"Yeah. I know, Rachel told me to drop by." I tell him, trying not to sound overly annoyed. I don't want to make a bad first impression, he is after all Rachel's best friend.

"And who might you be?" He asks as he wraps a scarf around his neck.

"I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

"Ahh. So you're the famous Quinn Fabray. Or rather infamous, I must say." He grins smugly as he looks me up and down, not in a checking out kind of way though. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if he expected someone different, someone better.

"What is that suppose to mean?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Rachel has been hoping you'd stop by." He muses, completely ignoring my question.

"Uh. Yeah. Do you know where she is?"

"Not so fast," He smirks walking up to me, "First you have to pass the test of the best friend."

"Um. Alright. I guess. Go for it." I say, completely unsure of what I've just gotten myself into.

"What do you want from her?" He asks, his eyes narrowing like those cops in interrogation rooms.

I think about that question for a while. What do I want from Rachel? Materialistically, nothing. Physically, there are something I would like, but they're not exactly that important. Emotionally, everything. But if I don't get any of that would I still stick around to have her friendship? Yeah. I guess I would.

Walking out of her life doesn't seem like something I could do. Not now, maybe not ever.

"Nothing in particular."

"Really? You thought about that for a good five minutes and all I get is that?" He says in a whine voice.

"I'm sorry, Jesse. I don't really have a long dignified answer to that. Let me think of one and I'll mail it to you."

"Great. I'll give you my e-mail." He laughs. And just like that the tension is broken.

"Oh whatever, you loser."

"Ouch. I resent that, Quinn. I'm a rather successful Broadway actor. Anyway, I'm going out to get brunch with my friend. Rachel should be on stage. She refused to go to lunch with Kurt and me on the terms of 'I need to perfect this song.'" He rolls his eyes and I find myself doing the same thing. I doubt she even needs practice to sound perfect.

"Thanks, Jesse." I say as he gives me a wave and is off.

I open the doors and her pitch perfect voice cuts through the silence. She's sitting at the piano, playing softly to accompany her singing, her back to me. I quietly walk as close as I can without her seeing me and sit in one of the empty seats, just listening.

_There now, steady love, so few come and don't go.  
>Will you, won't you be the one I always know?<br>When I'm losing my control, the city spins around.  
>You're the only one who knows, you slow it down.<em>

She's not singing a song from Spring Awakening. I know I've heard it somewhere before. It sounds somewhat like a love song and I briefly imagine that she's singing that song to me, about me, for me.

_Oh, oh, oh._  
><em>Be my baby.<em>  
><em>Oh, oh, oh.<em>  
><em>Oh, oh, oh.<em>  
><em>I'll look after you.<em>

She finishes and I want to jump up and clap and cheer, but I stay put. I don't want to scare her. She pushes herself away from the piano and stand up, finally turning around to see me.

"I think that stage is yours by divine right." I say, breaking the silence that has filled the auditorium.

"Quinn." She breaths.

"I didn't pit you as a fan of The Fray."

"What are you doing here?" She exclaims jumping off the stage and walking towards me.

Her hair is in a messy bun and she's wearing sweatpants and very little makeup. I like this look on her. She looks so natural, so carefree.

"I was in the neighborhood. I took a cab to get into the neighborhood, but nevertheless."

"Well, it's good to see you. I called." She says, taking a seat next to me.

"I know."

"As you inferred earlier, I am indeed a fan of The Fray." Rachel says and she goes into detail about how much she loves their songs and the lead singer. She tells me about how the first concert she ever went to in New York was The Fray with Jesse. Kurt didn't want to come because Gaga was having a show the same night.

"Are you alright?" She asks suddenly, a somewhat worried expression crosses her face.

"Yeah. Fine." I shrug.

"You don't look fine." She says, worrying her lip between her teeth. Thinking back to the person in the mirror, I can't help but agree with her. I rub my eyes but I know my efforts are futile. What I need is a shit load of cover up.

"I'm just tired. I couldn't sleep much." I say with a unconvincing smile. It's a lie and she knows it, I know she does, but she doesn't call me out on it. She simply nods her head.

"Oh. Well. I guess that explains it." She says, going along with it. I appreciate her for that.

"Thanks." I tell her.

"It's whatever. Somethings are saved for better times, right?"

"Yeah. How come you're so understanding, Rachel? Don't get me wrong, I like it, I'm just confused by it."

"I've never been one to judge." She says but I know there's something she's holding back. I don't want to pry, especially since she doesn't, but I stay silent and wait for her to continue.

"Getting bullied everyday changed me. I know what it feels like, to not be accepted. Hell, I even know what it's like to be hated. So, I keep an open mind. I don't want to make anyone feel the way I felt." She says, and I realize it's the most personal thing she has ever told me.

"I'm sorry about that." I tell her sincerely and she shrugs.

"It's alright. My dads always said they would carry that hate in their hearts for the rest of their lives."

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks." I say, repeating my mother's words. She always said that about my dad. He was a drinker, probably still is. She tried persuading him into stopping on numerous occasions, and for a while he did. But then the liquor kept calling and he gave in. He couldn't stop, even if he wanted to.

Will I ever be able to stop?

"It's never too late, Quinn." She tells me and I can't help but doubt it. It's not always too late, but sometimes it is. Some people are gone beyond retrieval.

"You think?" I ask.

"There's no such thing as a lost cause." She says smiling.

"We'll see."

"At dinner. On Saturday night with the whole gang."

"What makes you think I want to go to dinner?" I ask jokingly and she gasps dramatically.

"Who wouldn't want to go to dinner with Rachel Berry?" She asks incredulously.

"It's not the 'Rachel Berry' part that I don't like, that's the best part of the plan. It's the 'whole gang' part that's worrying me."

"Oh, Quinn. They'll be fine. I'm sure we can all behave like adults for one evening."

"I don't know about that, Rachel. I don't think you've ever seen Santana in action." Santana. When she's mad there are only two words to describe her: crazy bitch.

"Kurt and I are coming in now, so you two better be fully clothed." I hear Jesse yell and I start to laugh as Rachel blushes profusely.

"You're dead, St. James. Dead." She calls out. We look to the back and I see Jesse walking through the doors with a flamboyantly dressed boy. He's adorable, really. He has dark hair that is combed back, along with blue eyes. This must be Kurt.

"Why hello there Quinn! I'm glad that I'm finally getting to meet you. It's not fair that I'm the last one, I should have been the first." He huffs, offering a hand. I smile and shake it lightly.

"Oh, please. Rachel likes me better." Jesse laughs and Kurt narrows his eyes at him and then looks to Rachel.

"Don't look at me. Jesse meeting Quinn had nothing to do with my love for either of you." Rachel says holding up both hands.

"Boys, please. We all know she likes me best." I grin and they both glare at me until they burst out laughing.

"You're alright, Quinn. You're alright." Kurt says.

"Rachel said something about a group dinner, when is that happening again? I have to know because I'm a very busy person." Jesse says. He's smiling but I can't tell whether or not he's being serious.

"How's Saturday night?"

* * *

><p>"You look like shit, Q." Santana tells me as soon as I walk through the door. There is a smirk on her face and I'm briefly reminded of the old Santana.<p>

The one from high school. The reckless one. The one who didn't waste her time worrying about me more than she should. The one who was deeply in love with a girl that loved her just as much. The one who, for the longest time, wasn't brave enough to show her love.

This Santana is tired. She works too hard and she cares too much for me. But this one is braver and she's courageous and she stand up for that girl. The one she couldn't be brave for, all those years ago. The girl, that has now, has made all the difference.

"Still better than you." I counter, taking a seat at the counter. She slides me a diet coke across the table top as she nibbles on her toast.

"Watch it, blondie." She says winking.

"You're free Saturday night, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, you know that girl Rachel? She wants us all to have dinner at her place."

"Who's 'us'?" Santana asks. I inwardly groan. This would be so much easier if she wouldn't have asked and just went along with it. I could have come up with the excuse that I didn't even know Puck was going to be there. She would accuse me of lying, but she wouldn't have any proof.

"Me, you, Brittany, Sam, and her friends." I tell her. It's not lying. Puck is one of Rachel's friends.

"Is Puckerman going to be there?" Shit. I was so close.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Then no."

"Why?" I ask, and inwardly curse myself at how whiny my voice was when I said that.

"One condition. You have to come with me to Tiffany's or Jared's or where ever." Santana says, lowering her voice.

"Are you asking me to go engagement ring shopping with you, Mrs. Lopez?" I tease. I figure she's only getting Brittany a nice bracelet or necklace but the look on her face tells me otherwise.

"Maybe." And then my body involuntarily jump up. I can't help it. I don't usually get this excited about these kinds of things, but before I know it, my body is running around the table and engulfing Santana into a big bear hug.

"Santana. This is amazing." I exclaim and as I pull away I see tears welling up in her eyes. I think there are tears in my eyes too.

"Yeah. Finally, right?"

"Hey, Quinn. What are you two doing? It's late." I hear a voice and look over to see a tired looking Brittany standing in the hall. She has a pillow in her hands and I can't help but smile.

She's going to be so happy when she finds out, the happiest she has ever been, I think. She has been waiting for this for years. Maybe even longer than Santana, and that's hard to imagine.

"It's nothing, babe." Santana says letting go of me, walking over to a yawning Brittany.

Brittany frowns when she sees that there are tears in Santana's eyes but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she kisses Santana's wet cheeks and wipes them with the back of her shirt.

"That's better. Come on, Sanny. Let's go to bed. I'm tired and I can't sleep without you." Brittany says and Santana smiles. I know she can't say no to that. She gives me a quick wave and they both say 'goodnight' and head up to their room.

I wonder if that will ever be Rachel and me. Will we ever be happy like Brittany and Santana?

Will we ever be in love?


	5. I'm Going to Kill Them Both

It's been a while! Hiya!  
>I'm really sorry that I haven't updated, but school and athletics take up a lot of my time.<br>Thank you for everyone who has reviewed! Your kind words mean a lot to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>It's 10 a.m. when I wake up. It's cold in my room and I'm shivering. I throw on some sweatpants, but it doesn't go away. I guess this isn't the kind of shivering that can be solved with a sweater. I look over, outside the window. It's a cloudy and rainy day, my favorite.<p>

My stash is almost gone and my money is running out. I can't ask Santana for money because I know she won't give it to me. Well, unless I prove to her that it's not for drugs. Not sure how I'm going to pull that one off.

I guess if I was desperate enough I could steal something and sell it. Chances are Santana and Brittany wouldn't even notice it. Chances are they would. I've done it before, stealing from my mother and father. I got away with it, at least for a while. But Santana and Brittany have been more my family than my so called parents. I can't do that to them.

I quickly push the thoughts out of my head. I can't stoop that low again, not yet. Hopefully, not ever again. I'll go down to one of the local papers. I'm sure at least one of them will buy my pictures. If not, Puck will just have to shoot me up and I'll owe him.

I find some heroin in the snazzy little drug box I keep hidden under my bed, and cook it up. It looks good, syrupy black. I add the rest of my meth in before looking for a vein. They're slowly starting to collapse. To sum it up: that fucking sucks. It's hard getting a good hit and I end up missing and inserting the needle my muscle a couple times. It burns like a bitch.

I finally find a vein in my wrist and shoot up. For a moment I feel great but just like that, the feeling is gone.

I'm high, I know I am, but it just doesn't feel the same. And that scares me. I'm not shooting up because it feels amazing like it did years ago, now I'm doing it because my body needs it. Because I need it. I leave the box on my bed, no point in hiding it yet, no one's home. I take a couple deep breathes and settle down on the couch, watching some lame ass tv shows.

After a while my high deteriorates. I shoot up again before I go shower. I avoid the mirror.

When I finish Jersey Shore is on. What a horrible show, Santana likes it. I think she wants to be on it. I just don't see the appeal.

I stare off into space, not thinking about anything in particular until I hear the doorbell ring. Weird. I wasn't expecting anyone. I waver slightly, but I make it to the door.

As soon as I open it I can't help but grin.

"I was informed by Mr. Noah Puckerman that the gorgeous girl, living in 17B, didn't have any plans for today so I decided to drop by. Do you know where I might find her?" Her hair is down and she's wearing jeans and a white long sleeve shirt along with a coat from the North Face.

"Miss, you're going to have to be much more descriptive than that." I tell her, playing along.

"Short blonde hair, hazel eyes, tall, simply stunning."

Stunning. Yeah right. Maybe I use to be, but it makes me happy knowing she thinks so. Or maybe she's just being nice.

"I'm sorry. Brittany is completely preoccupied with Santana today. I think Santana took her to see Disney on Ice. But I can take a message." I grin as she slaps me gently on the shoulder.

"Come in." I say, stepping aside and letting her come in. She looks around. It's nice enough, I think. Large, open living room area with a couch and a love seat, or so I'm told. I never really understood the difference. Apparently, a loveseat is smaller. I mean, you could just call it a small couch but that would be too simple, wouldn't it?

"Nice house." She says looking around.

"Tell that to Brittany and she'll love you forever. She picked out most of the furniture. I was kind of worried that they would all have ducks on them but she surprised me."

"Ducks? Is she an animal lover?"

"Something like that. Brittany is kind of different, I guess." I explain as well as I can. I can't tell her why. Santana wouldn't appreciate it.

"Oh. I see. Which one's your room?" She asks and I lead her down the hall. She slows to look at the pictures on the wall. They're mostly of Santana and Brittany, but there are some of me.

"They're cute." She says looking at a picture of the two. It shows a laughing Brittany giving an embarrassed looking Santana a piggy back ride. I took it during the summer when we all went on a walk in Central Park. Brittany dropped her baseball cap into one of the ponds and Santana, her knight in shinning armor, just had to get it for her. Long story short, she slipped and sprained her ankle. BUT she did get the cap.

"The cutest." I agree.

"Excuse the mess." I tell her opening the door to my room. She looks around. It's medium sized. The walls are painted a dark green. I have a wooden bed with forest green sheets. They're covered with Chinese symbols. I don't know what they say, I've never looked into it.

"That looks beautiful." Rachel says pointing to the wall opposite my bed. It's covered in my favorite photos. They are some of Santana and Brittany, looking more in love than those couples in sappy romantic comedies.

There are a few of me and Sam. My favorite one I took last year. He's hugging me from behind and placing a kiss on my cheek. There's pictures of random people on the street, and buildings, even some of Puck and me.

"Thanks." I smile. It means a lot coming from her. She turns around and walks towards my bed and then she stop and turns around.

"I think you forgot to put something away, Quinn." She says, there is some nervousness in her voice.

My eyes wide and flutter to the bed. Sure enough, there it all is. I think there is some blood on the needle. I feel momentarily sick.

"I -uh." I stutter. I don't know what to say. I don't know what she expects me to say.

I hold my breath as I watch her pick up the syringe gently and look it up and down. She looks at the little sac of crystals and then looks up at me.

"Does it hurt?" She asks me curiously as she takes a seat on my bed. There's something more laced in her voice. Something I can't quite explain, it may be sadness though.

"Uh, no. Not anymore. I don't even think about it." I tell her honestly. I use to be afraid of needles, ironic isn't it? I avoided doctor appointments at all costs and now look at me. I've gotten over my fear.

"Not anymore?"

"No. I guess I've done it so many times I've become immune to the pain. Unless I miss the vein, then it hurts." I shrug, gently taking the syringe from her hand, stuffing it into my little drug box, so juvenile, and sliding it under my bed.

I retreat back onto my bed, but instead of sitting on the edge next to Rachel, I lean against my headboard. Rachel looks over at me and I give her a reassuring smile, motioning for her to come to me. She smiles and crawls over, slides under the covers, and looks up at me.

"Can I see your arm?" She asks.

Hesitantly, I reach out my arm and lay it down onto her awaiting hands. She gives me this kind of smile. You know the ones that makes everything seem okay, even if it's only temporary. She leans down a bit to get a better view of the dots. There must be hundreds by now. You can see virtually no veins and my arm is pale, in a dead kind of way.

It's still a little red from where I shot up earlier. The places I missed are much more purple. She runs delicate fingers across the straight white scars that cover most of my forearm. Just another vice I picked up over the years. I grew out of it though. She looks up at me sadness and confusion in her eyes. I offer her a smile but she doesn't return it, instead she gazes back down.

"There are so many." She breathes and I can't help but chuckle. I don't think I should have.

"Yeah. After you've been using as long as I have, you sort of just lose count after a while."

"You've counted?" She jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood. I appreciate that.

"Tried to." I tell her truthfully.

"I see." She says, her smile turning sad as she reaches for my other arm. She traces the white scares on my other arm. We're sitting on my bed, under my covers, close to each other. It doesn't seem like much, but to me it is. I cant remember the last time I was ever so intimate with someone without actually doing anything sexual. Sam was always nice and gentle, but his touches lacked what her don't.

"How do they feel? The drugs?" She asks, finally looking up from my arm.

"Amazing at first. It makes you feel alive, like you're on top of the world, like nothing can bring you down." I tell her, thinking back to the first couple of times I used. What joyous days.

"Sounds wonderful." She says, her fingers sliding across my skin. It feels soothing.

"It is, until you need it."

"Good thing I never felt the urge to do it. I've been told I have a very addictive personality." She says with a wink and just like that the sadness is lifted.

"For some reason I don't find it hard to believe that." I grin.

"Oh whatever! I brought Funny Girl!" She exclaims with a smile, jumping off the bed and reaching into her purse, pulling out a DVD.

"On second thought, Brittany will be home later. Thanks for stopping by." I joke and she sticks her tongue out at me.

"Ha. You're funny. Funny Girl is a classic. Barbra is a genius. Genius."

"Of course she is." I murmur, leaning my back against the couch. I'm not entirely sure about who this Barbra person is, but as soon as Rachel launches into a speech about her perfection and musical genius I gather she's a pretty good singer.

"Now that you're well informed I'm just going to plop this into the DVD." She says getting up and walking over to the TV. She leans over, opening the DVD and putting the disk in.

I try not to stare. I really do try, but alas, even I cannot resist the urge to look. Rachel, sweetie, your ass looks divine in those jeans. Please, never take them off. On second thought... please do.

* * *

><p>My eyes flutter several times before opening completely. I try to reach up and rub my eyes but my arm is being prevented from doing so.<p>

She's sleeping, her head peacefully resting on my arm. She's close to me and I can feel her chest rising and falling with every breathe she takes. I shouldn't let myself get close to her, not for my sake, but for hers.

I'm a nice person, I'm caring, I'm compassionate, but I'm also a drug addict. I know that. I'm not denying it.

I don't want to hurt her, I don't want to bring her down. I should roll away and pretend we never ended up so close, but I can't. Instead, I wrap my free arm around her petite waist and pull her closer to me. I bury my face in her hair, it smells like chocolate mint. Seriously? Who the hell buys shampoo that smells like chocolate mint?

Only Rachel Berry.

I close my eyes, completely content. I want to remember this moment, in case I don't get another like it. Then suddenly I feel small but strong hands wrap around my waist and I gasp as Rachel pulls me into her.

"You know, Quinn Fabray, I like being awake during cuddling sessions." Rachel purrs in my ear before leaning back and grinning.

"I thought you were still asleep." I admit smiling back at her.

"Well, I was extremely comfortable." She says laying her head back down onto my shoulder and draping an arm across my stomach.

I'm feeling confident, so I place a gently kiss to her forehead. I'm guessing she doesn't oppose to it because she starts rubbing circles onto my stomach. I almost die when I feel soft lips pressing to my collarbone.

They disappear almost as quickly as they appear and she lifts her head up. And here I am face to face with the most beautiful and talented girl in New York, maybe even the world.

Her deep brown eyes search my hazel ones. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted to kiss anyone. And from the way she's looking at me, I think she may want to kiss me too.

I don't want to push this, whatever it may be. I just want her closeness.

Her eyes flicker to my lips before coming back up to meet mine. I nod my head and bite my lip as she places a hand on my cheek. I feel it getting hot as her eyes flutter shut and she leans down. I close mine too, anticipating her lips against mine.

"Quinn come eat wi- Oh."

"Santana what's wro- Oh."

The first thought that comes into my head: I'm going to kill them both. Rachel quickly leans back and my eyes flutter open as I prop myself up on my elbows to see a smirking Santana and a grinning Brittany standing in my door.

"Thanks for knocking, jackass." I groan.

"I wasn't aware of the fact you had company." She states, raising an eyebrow as her gaze flickers to Rachel. Rachel is bushing and she has never looked cuter.

"Sorry, mother." I shoot back. I swear to god, Santana and I bicker like an old married couple. It's only because we care though.

"I just wanted to let you know we got take out. Your… friend can join us if she wishes. Unless you two have some unfinished business." She says adding a wink at the end. I roll my eyes. She's just trying to embarrass me now.

"You know, you and Puck are such perverts." I say before a whip a pillow in her direction. She laughs and easily dodges it.

"Not true! Santana only gets her sweet lady kisses on with me, right San?" Brittany asks.

"Of course, babe." Santana says wrapping an arm around Brittany's waste and placing a kiss to her cheek.

"Gross. Anyway, this is Rachel." I say motioning to Rachel, who simply gives a bashful wave.

"The Rachel?" Santana asks, realizing that I'm not with some random girl. Yes, there has been one or maybe two.

"Rachel Berry? Oh! You're amazing!" Brittany exclaims, letting go of Santana and jumping onto the bed, engulfing Rachel into a hug. I'm a bit worried to see her reaction. I don't want her to push Brittany away, or seem weirder out by it, but she just laughs and hugs Brittany back.

"And you're Brittany Pierce. I saw one of your recitals! You're so good." She smiles brightly. And I'm relieved. I think they'll get along just fine.

"Santana Lopez." She says from her position at the door. Santana isn't touchy feely like Brittany. She's more reserved and doesn't like strangers, or family for that matter, touching her. It makes her uncomfortable. We sort of have that in common. To some extent at least.

"It's a pleasure." Rachel answers politely, still in Brittany's grasp.

"Yup. Now that we all know each other, get out." I tell Santana and Brittany, pointing to the door.

"But I want Rachel to come eat with us." Brittany says, letting go of Rachel and taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Brittany, really I don't-" I'm cut off by Santana clearing her throat. I don't want to start anything right now, so I figure it's best to give Brittany what she wants.

"Fine." I groan. I hate them. So much. Hate. Hate. Hate. Rachel raises an eyebrow, most likely confused by my agreement. Fucking Santana.

"What Brittany wants, Brittany gets." I mutter.

"That's right. Santana will do anything for me." Brittany says proudly, grabbing Rachel's hand and tugging her out of the bed.

"We got salad too! I hear someone where-" I hear her telling Rachel as she leads her out of the room and into the kitchen. I groan and collapse back into the covers, defeated.

"Come on, lover girl." Santana chuckles as she walks up to the bed and offers me a hand up.

* * *

><p>Dinner is going well. Brittany is talking a lot, and so is Rachel. They're getting along wonderfully and that makes me happy.<p>

Santana keeps sending worried glances my way, but I keep shrugging them off. I must look like shit under the harsh kitchen lights. I probably look sick and pale. My high is completely gone and I can't eat much. Chinese is my favorite, but I can barely look at it right now without wanting to puke my guts out.

Rachel and Santana are talking about Santana's job at the NYPD. She's impressed and I'm surprised. Santana isn't generally very welcoming of new people. She also doesn't generally like anyone I bring home. Doesn't surprise me, but I guess she has sensed that Rachel isn't really like the other people I know.

Santana can tell that Rachel doesn't use. And I know she is going to want to talk to me after dinner. Right now I can tell you exactly what shes going to say and ask.

"Does Rachel use?" Nope.

"Does Rachel know you use?" Yup.

"Do you like her?" Very much so.

"This is a bad idea." I'm very well aware of that.

Rachel's laughing brings me out of my thoughts. Brittany probably said something funny, or stupid, depends on how you look at it. I think a lot of people think she is, but she's not. She's one of the smartest people I know, just in a different way.

Not everyone seems to appreciate that. I think Santana was the first person to think of her as someone better than just the ditzy cheerleader. Brittany is lucky though. Her parents always support her, in any decision she makes. When she came out to them they weren't even phased by it. All they said was, "We know. We knew since you and Santana were five."

I stay quiet through most of dinner, just listening and observing. I like to do that sometimes. Brittany is completely enthralled in Rachel. I'm not surprised, she has that element to her. Santana seems relaxed. That's a good sign.

When we finish eating Rachel thanks Santana and Brittany and says that she has to get going. I offer to get her a cab but she says that Jesse is picking her up. They have some cast movie night thingy to go to at Kurt's house.

I walk her to the door, grabbing her coat and helping her slide it on.

"Thank you, Quinn." She smiles as I open the door for her.

"For what?" I ask slightly confused.

"For a wonderful day." She says leaning up and placing a small, wet kiss on my cheek. And just like that she's gone.

I touch my cheek. It's burning, but it's such a good burn.

I think that her kiss might kill me, and anything else? Completely destroy me, in the best way possible.

I replay it in my head as I close the door as walk back into the kitchen.

"Does she know you use?" Santana asks, as she's loading our dishes into the dishwasher. Ding, ding, ding. Right on cue.

"Yeah. She does."

"You like her, Quinn. You look at her like a smitten little kitten." She smirks teasingly.

"Like Santana looks at me." Brittany calls out from the bathroom and I laugh while Santana rolls her eyes smiling.

"I do." I answer, no point in denying it.

"She's a good girl, Quinn." Santana says. This I didn't see coming.

"I know." I say cautiously. I'm not quite sure where this is going.

"Don't hurt her." She says with a smile on her face, but I know the warning is genuine.

"I-uh. I'll do my best."

I want to say I won't, but that's not something I can promise. At least not completely. I seem to have a knack for hurting those close to me.

Thinking about it now, I don't know how I'd live with myself knowing that I caused her any pain. That I'm the one that brought tears to her eyes. That I'm the one that ripped her heart to shreds.

I'm silent for a moment and then I look up to find Santana's eyes.

"I won't."


	6. Finally

What should I be doing? Homework. What am I doing? Writing fanfics. Lovely!  
>Thank you for reviews as well as favorites and alerts! Here is the next chapter!<p>

Enjoy!

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><p>I'm laying in my room with the shades down. It's pitch black, besides the light coming from my digital clock. Sometimes I find it so hard to leave my room. It's peaceful and quiet, unlike the real world. If I was always sober I think I would end up being a hermit.<p>

But the drugs, they give me the energy to leave my house and be social, even thought it's not entirely me.

Puck dropped off a speedball earlier but I haven't shot up yet. Why? I don't know. Maybe I just won't do it. Call it quits today? If I was shivering and puking all over the place Santana would let me stay in bed.

I don't even know if I want to see Rachel today.

I don't know if I want to start something with her, something I can't finish. I somehow manage to fuck everything up. What if I do the same to her? I should just talk myself out of this one and out of all future relationships.

What the fuck happened to me? I had a plan once, granted it wasn't my plan, but it was a plan nevertheless. Now what I am? Nothing. A weak little girl trying to pluck up the courage to get the fuck out of my room. I suck.

"Quinn?" Brittany asks as she opens the door to my room. The light from the lamp in the hallway comes through the open door and I throw a pillow over my head.

"What do you want?" The sound of my voice scares even me. It sounds dead, probably matches my looks.

"Are you coming with us? To that dinner thing with Rachel?" She asks cautiously.

Am I? I don't feel like it. But Santana is already getting ready. She would be so pissed at me if I decided to change my mind now.

"Yeah. I'm coming." I groan.

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes." She says turning around, but stopping when her hand touches the doorknob.

"I wish you'd get better, Quinn." Brittany whispers and I almost don't hear her.

The sadness in her voice breaks my heart. I always forgot that Brittany isn't as oblivious to my using as she may pretend to be.

"One day, Brittany. One day, I promise I will get better." I tell her. I don't know if that's a lie. I hope it's the truth for her sake, rather than mine.

She leaves after that and I open my nightstand looking for my immediate way of getting better.

Turning on the light, I look for a vein. There's a visible one on my forearm and I go for it. I cough loudly as the rush hits me almost instantaneously.

Good ole' coke. I'm glad because for the first time in a while, I actually feel the high. I think I'll start getting speedballs from now on as oppose to just the heroin.

I'm better now, Britt.

* * *

><p>"Remind me again why we're here." Santana groans as we walk into MJ's. It's this restaurantbar/dance club. It was Rachel's choice, obviously.

I was hoping for something less people friendly, like a quiet sushi bar, but quiet doesn't exactly scream Rachel Berry.

"We're here for Quinn." Brittany responds offering me a smile.

"Just cause she's whipped as fuck doesn't mean we should have to suffer."

"Still here." I remind Santana as she rolls her eyes. It's dark inside and there are many people, but it's not overly crowded. I spot Jesse and a dark haired boy sitting by the bar.

"Hey, Jesse." I say as we walk up to them. He twirls around on the bar stool and grins at us.

"Hey, Quinn! I'm glad you showed up." He says.

"I'm Santana. And this is Brittany." Santana introduces them. She even smiles. I'm impressed.

"This is Finn. He's Kurt's stepbrother." Jesse says pointing to the dark haired boy. Finn gives a shy wave and turns back to his beer.

Jesse rolls his eyes and I can tell he's not a fan of him. I look at him questioningly and he nods his head to the corner of the room. There, Kurt and Sam are sitting in one of the round booths. I nod knowingly, gaining respect for Jesse. What a good friend. Suffering with some bafoon just because he doesn't want to cock block his friend.

"Well. We're going to go break up that love fest." Santana grins in Sam's direction. One point for Jesse.

"I have nothing to do with that! And if you see Puckerman, tell him to come over here when he's done dancing."

"Will do, Jesse." I assure him as Santana, Brittany and I tread though people and finally make it to the pair.

"Hey, sweetie." Sam says once he sees me. He stand up, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek and doing the same to Santana and Brittany.

"Hey, Kurt. This is Santana and Brittany." I tell him as we take a seat across from them.

"Why hello there ladies. Can I just say that I love that color on you Santana." Kurt says eyeing her red blouse. I think they'll get along just fine.

"Why thank you." She answers a real smile appearing on her face.

I let my gaze leave the table, in search of Rachel. After all, she is the only reason I am here.

"Rachel thought dancing with Noah would kill time. You know she can't stand still for a lengthy amount of time." Kurt explains, sensing the reason I was looking around.

"I'm sorry we're late but Lopez here decided to spend an extra three hours checking her hair." I tease. Santana could spend hours getting ready. Hours. Never have I ever met someone who took longer getting ready than her. Truthfully, she could spend ten minutes in front of the mirror and still look gorgeous.

"Quinn, this was-"

"All your fault, San." Brittany cuts in. Santana looks to her, ready to protest but instead bites her lip and nods.

"Whipped." Sam coughs, grinning as Santana shoots him a dirty look.

"I'm not whipped."

"Yes you are, San." Brittany says placing a kiss on the Latina's cheek.

"Yes, I am." Santana agrees whole heartedly as the table erupts in laughter.

"Hey, at least I'm getting laid tonight. That's all I have to say." Santana: one. Everyone else, except Brittany: zero.

"Cute. This is the kind of relationship I want." Kurt says still grinning. I think we all want what Santana and Brittany have.

"You want to be whipped?" I ask, causing Santana to burst out laughing at the double meaning in my words.

"Ha. You're so funny, Quinn. So funny." Kurt says, making a face at me.

"I get what you mean, Kurt." Sam says, offering a smile.

"Get a room." We all hear Puckerman calling from behind us.

"Oh shut your face, Puck." Sam calls back as he grins and stands up to shake up with Puck.

He comes over to me, placing a quick kiss on my cheek. He gets a hug from Brittany, but doesn't even both to touch Santana. Instead they exchange a polite 'hello.'

Brittany grins proudly and I have a feeling she spoke with Santana regarding Puck. I wonder what she offered her.

"Hey, gorgeous." I heard a pair of lips murmur in my ear and I'm sure that if I didn't already know who it was I would have shot up from my seat.

"Hey yourself." I say turning around and placing a quick kiss to her cheek. It felt good. She is flushed from dancing and her hair is messy, but she looks stunning.

"Nice of you two to join us." Kurt huffs. I think he's only pretending to act annoyed. I highly doubt he minded being alone with Sam.

"Come on now, Kurtie. You know I needed some bonding time with my favorite Jew." Puck grinned, and slid into the booth next to Kurt.

"Actually, Puck. Jesse wants you to come by the bar. He's stuck with my brother and I don't think he will hold out much longer." Kurt says, but I doubt he's really worried about Jesse and Finn.

Puck raises an eyebrow and looks up at Sam who motions his head towards the bar.

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll see you later then." Puck instantly grins, taking the hint.

"Come dance with me?" Rachel asks and how can I say no? I know I can't dance. And the lights coming from the dance floor are kind of tweaking me out, but I can't refuse her. I feel like Santana. Whipped.

"Of course." I say taking her hand and allowing myself to be led to the dance floor. I see Brittany dragging Santana along with her. Kurt and Sam stay behind. He seems like a nice boy. He would be good to Sam. And I know Sam would be good to him too.

Sam would be good to anyone, really.

I'm brought back to reality as soon as I feel Rachel's hands wrap around my neck. I wrap my arms round her waist and pull her close to me. I feel the warmth emanating from her. I feel her thighs against mine, and her stomach, and her breasts and I don't let myself think anymore than that.

"I didn't actually think you were going to come." I hear her confess and once again I'm brought out from my thoughts. Her voice sounds so vulnerable and I can't admit to her that I almost didn't.

"Why?" I ask, as we lightly sway back and forth.

"I feel like you're trying to talk yourself out of being my…" She pauses, seeming deep in thought for a couple moments, "out of being in my life." She finally finishes and I'm glad she didn't say friend.

"That would be the smart thing to do." I tell her honestly. I want her to know that this is a bad idea. I want her to know what she is getting herself into.

"Well, be dumb."

"I have a knack for that." I answer chuckling as she shakes her head, placing it on my shoulder and wrapping her arms around my waist.

I close my eyes and lean my head on her's, allowing my mind to go blank and focus on our bodies swaying to the rhythm.

* * *

><p>"Better watch Finncompetent over there. Looks like he's trying to steal your girl." Santana chuckles as she hands me a beer and takes a sip of her own.<p>

"Thanks, but I'm not that worried. I don't think complete idiot is her type." I answer, but steal a quick glance to the pair dancing. They do seem to be having a good time, except for the fact that the oaf keeps stepping on Rachel's feet. He's also much too tall for her. And clumsy. And most likely boring.

"She likes you." Santana chuckles.

"Ouch. Burn." I say, laughing and shoving her shoulder lightly.

"Kidding. Maybe charming is her type. And he does have that." Santana points out as I see Rachel laughing at something the boy says. His dopey smile doesn't appeal to me.

"What about Jesse? Him and Brittany seem to be having a great time." I say nodding to them. They're making quite a spectacle of themselves. They seem to be moving in perfect sync to one another and it's attracting many eyes.

"Sure. Jesse is cute, nice, funny, he's also gay." Santana points out.

Santana Lopez: two. Quinn Fabray: zero.

"On second thought, maybe I'll just go see what they're up to." I say getting off the stool. I'm pretty sure I hear Santana laughing from behind me. Bitch.

"Hey you two." I greet, coming up to them. Upon hearing my voice Rachel lets go of Finn and turns to me smiling. He keeps an arm on her shoulder and it's starting to bug me, but I don't say anything.

"Oh hey uh-" Finn stutters. Has that idiot forgotten my name? Already? Is he really incapable of retaining that sort of insignificant information?

"Quinn. My name is Quinn." I tell him, trying to keep my patience. I try to sound nice, I really do, but I don't think it works.

I don't really care either. I don't like his crooked little smile or his so called boyish charm. I also don't like the way he's looking at Rachel. It makes me feel uneasy.

I miss what he says next but Rachel laughs. I doubt it was funny. I think he's an idiot. Or maybe, he's just really smart and good at hiding it. I'm worried that it might be the second because he gets this satisfied look on his face as Rachel pats his hand.

I want to wipe that smug grin off his face right now.

I think Rachel senses something is off in my mind because she shakes off Finn's ogre arm and comes by me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Do you want to go home?" Rachel asks, looking up. I can't help it but my eyebrow pops up. I can't decided whether this is a show for Finnie or whether this is a serious question.

"Home?" I ask.

"Yeah. Come over." She says as if it's nothing. Finn looks ready to protest but as soon as he sees the smirk forming on my face, he stops himself. Thought you were getting somewhere, didn't you?

We say our goodbyes to Puck, Finn, and Jesse who are now sitting at the bar discussing sports. Santana and Brittany are back on the dance floor and apparently, Kurt and Sam left fifteen minutes ago.

Sammy and I are going to have 'the talk' tomorrow. I can't wait.

As we walk out of MJ's, there is a bald headed guy begging people for money. As soon as we near him I can tell. He's a junkie. He has this wild look in his eyes as they meet mine.

As soon as Rachel sees him nearing us she grabs my hand tightly in her's.

"You. You know. Help me. I need it." He says, grabbing onto my sleeve. I look to Rachel and she has this frightened look on her face. It's not because she's scared he's going to hurt us though.

I know what she's thinking. I'm thinking the same thing. One day that might be me. Hopefully not.

"I have as much money as you, man." I tell him and he knows I'm not lying. He gives me a shove but walks away, towards a wealthy looking man.

He won't get any from him. I know that all too well.

* * *

><p>"Good evening, Ms. Berry." The door keeper says offering Rachel a smile. He looks infatuated with her, I wonder if that's what I look like.<p>

"Frank, I thought I told you to call me 'Rachel.'" She signs but smiles. His eyes light up and he nods. He has graying hair and visible laugh lines on his face. I think he might have lived a good life so far.

"Sorry, Rachel. I keep forgetting, it comes with the old age." He jokes, looking to me.

"This is Quinn." She said tugging me forward. She is still holding my hand. She held it the whole time in the taxi. And I really hope she doesn't let it go.

Frank looks me up and down, not in a creepy way though. He seems to be evaluating me in a way. His green eyes finally look up to meet mine and he smiles warmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn." At least I have the doorman's approval.

"Likewise." I tell him before Rachel pulls me towards the elevator and into her apartment. It's a lot more welcoming than my dark room and I'm thankful for that.

She lets go of my hand and walks out of the living room, down the hall, and into a room. When she emerges she's carrying a set of clothes.

"You can wear my clothes, if you want?"

I thank her and she tells me to change because she is going to do the same in her room. She leaves me then and I start to strip. I try to hurry up because I don't want her to see my worn out body. It's embarrassing.

"Did you have fun tonight?" She calls out as I take off my jeans and pull on her gray sweatpants.

"Yeah. Surprisingly. I'm not very good with crowds. Or people." I tell her truthfully. I pull on her long sleeve shirt and it's a bit short but it smells like her, so I don't mind.

"Were you always like that?" I try not to picture her taking her clothes off in the next room. Her perfectly shaped... stop it.

"Head cheerleader Quinn Fabray was at the top of the social pyramid." I chuckle as I lay down on the couch, putting my hands behind my head.

Head Bitch in Charge, Quinn Fabray. Good times, good times.

"I didn't pit you as a cheerleader." She says emerging from her room in plaid pajama pants and a white t-shit.

"Me neither, not anymore at least." I tell her as I make room for her next to me. I open my arms and she lays down, almost on top of me, laying her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her and relish having her so close to me once again.

These are the moments I want to remember. Completely content, laying on a couch with Rachel Berry.

"I don't doubt you were pretty enough for it, I just didn't think you'd care enough about what people thought of you."

"Back then, I was all about imagine. For Christ's sake, Sam and I dated for imagine." Rachel giggled at that.

"Sam is gay, isn't he?"

"He is. No one said I was though."

"You're straight?" She asks a little surprised, picking her head up and looking at me wide eyed.

"Kidding."

"Oh. Okay. Good."

"Yeah. We're both gay, but it was Ohio. He was the star quarter back, I was the head cheerleader. It was meant to be."

"Makes sense. I imagine you were a very pretty girl in high school." She says, while playing with the hem of my shirt. Or rather, her shirt.

"I'm sure you were too." She props her head up on the palm of her hand and shakes her head.

"No. Not really."

I don't know what kills me more. The fact that she disagrees with me, or the fact that she truly believes she's not gorgeous.

"Rachel, I think you're beautiful. Regardless of what anyone says or thinks, including yourself." It's not just a line and I hope she knows it. I think she does because she gets this precious look in her eyes. And she bites her lip and her eyes drift to mine.

Suddenly, I'm aware of how well her petite body fits in with mine. She starts toying with my hair and when I see her lean down, I close my eyes, anticipating her lips against mine.

Instead, I feel her hot breath on my neck. She kisses it gently. Once. Twice. And a third time before I feel her nibble softly. I almost come undone right then and there. I don't know how I'll survive it she actually kisses me. She moves up, sucking lightly on my jaw and I swallow hard, feeling her hand tangle in my hair.

When did I become such a teenage boy?

"Look at me." She whispers and my eyes flutter open.

Her eyes are full of need and want, but they're gentle and caring and I can't help but place a hand on her warm cheek.

I offer her a reassuring smile and she leans down, finally, capturing my lips with hers.

My stomach flips as our lips move against one another. I allow my hands to snake down and grab her hips, pulling her into me, or rather completely onto me. She captures my bottom lip between her teeth, biting gently before sucking, and I can't help the moan that escapes my lips.

She takes advantage of it and slide her tongue against my swollen bottom lip. I can't let her in fast enough. I feel the throbbing between my legs make itself known.

I don't think I've ever been this aroused by kissing. That's why it shouldn't come as a surprise that I had to restrain myself from cursing when her lips finally left mine.

"If I don't stop now, I don't think I'll be able to." She whispers in a voice that makes me shudder. I can't help but agree. She leans her forehead against mine. She's breathing heavily.

I'm glad I have the same effect on her that she has on me.

I want to tell her to keep going. I want to tell her she doesn't need to stop. But instead, I keep my mouth shut.

I don't want to push this too far tonight. I want this to mean something.

"Yeah, me neither." I say, tilting my head and placing a lingering kiss to her lips. The quite moan that escapes her lips is enough to make me want to lose control but I stop myself.

"Goodnight, Quinn." She says, placing her head on my chest and snuggling into my side.

"Goodnight, beautiful."

I never placed much importance on sex. It was just a physical act. It could be used when you really love someone, or it could be used when you simply wanted to enjoy yourself. It was all the same to me.

Was.

But with Rachel I want to wait until it will mean something more than it would have tonight.

As lame as it may sound, and trust me it sounds lame as hell, I don't just want to have sex with her.

I want so much more.


	7. The Berry Men

Procrastination. I have a problem with it. 40 pages of notes to do and here I am. Damn. I suck.  
>Thank you all for your kind words and reviews! They keep me going.<br>If you have any suggestions for future chapters feel free to let me know!

Anyway, here is Chapter 7! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>I'm tired.<p>

I'm so fucking tired of everything. I should be happy, or at least happier. Rachel and I have gotten closer, a lot closer, in the past couple of weeks. I like her, a lot, but it's not enough.

Just liking someone isn't enough in the long run.

I'm tired of faking laughter whenever I'm around Santana and Brittany, even Sam and Puck, but they all see through it, I think. The thing I like about Rachel is that I don't have to fake it. I can just collapse on her couch and lay there without saying a word and she'll sit with me. Running her hands through my hair, humming, sometimes even signing on my request. I can't remember the last time I was that comfortable around someone.

I find myself tired no matter how much I sleep. I'm starting to think that it's not the kind of tired sleep can fix. It's never-ending.

I'm tired of the drugs. I don't want to live with them, but I don't think I can live without them. Or maybe I'm just a fucking coward. That's a possibility.

Maybe I should just off myself. I've thought about it before, hell, I've tried it before. Didn't work though, obviously.

I don't know how long I can take it anymore. It's not even sadness, it's just tiredness, if that makes sense. It's okay if it doesn't, I'm not making much anymore.

Rachel's dads flew into New York to see her on Broadway. I've seen her six times, thus far. I don't think hearing her singing is something I'll ever get bored of. Her voice just seems to get better and better as the days drag. She wants to be the next Barbra, but I keep telling her, she's going to be the new Rachel Berry.

Anyway, her dads. Get this, she wants me to meet them. Ha. Good joke, Rach. Good joke. At least that's what I told her, she wasn't laughing, which leads me to assume that she was being serious.

They flew in last night and she wants me to come to dinner tonight. Personally, I'm not quite sure if that's a good idea.

I know she doesn't expect me to go sober, she told me that they'll love me no matter right. Yeah right. I'm sure all parents love junkies, mine sure did! Shit, it doesn't leave me much of a choice, I have to go sober and that sucks. I have to, for her.

When the fuck did this happen? When did I suddenly start carrying about what some chick's parents thought of me?

I blame Rachel.

* * *

><p>My fingers tap on my thigh as I knock on Rachel's apartment. I never thought something I've done hundreds of times could make me so nervous.<p>

"Good evening! You must be Quinn." A short, nerdy looking man with glasses says after opening the door. He looks pretty straight edge. Like one of those people who never drink, unless it's that occasional dinner wine.

"Uh- yes. Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Berry." I say mustering up a smile. He steps aside and allows me inside. Whatever Rachel is cooking smells amazing, but I know it's going to be hard to swallow it down.

"Oh please, call me Hiram. You're a bit too old to be calling me 'Mr. Berry.'" He says.

"Okay, thank you."

"Gorgeous and polite. Honey, Rachel wasn't lying, this girl really is perfect." He calls out loudly, probably for his husband to hear.

I feel my cheeks flush red. Hardly perfect. She must have spared some details for them. I shrug off my coat and hang it on the rack before turning to see a tall, black man towering over me. He looks rather intimidating for a while before cracking a smile and extending a hand.

"I'm Leroy."

"Quinn." I say shaking his hand firmly and looking straight into his deep brown eyes. That's what you're suppose to do right? I read somewhere that that leaves a good impression or something.

Her parents seem like complete opposites, at least look wise.

"Hey, Quinn." Rachel says walking out of her kitchen with cooking mitts on. I don't think she's ever looked cuter, but then again, I seem to think that every time I see her. Her hair is in a loose pony tail, but it keeps falling onto her face and she has some white powder on her forehead.

She wraps her arms around my waist and I wipe the flour off her forehead before returning the gesture.

"Hey, gorgeous." I chuckle as she stands on her tip toes and places a peck on my lips. I feel my cheeks go red once again as I look to her fathers' reactions.

"Don't worry, Quinn. We're well aware of the fact that you're not teenagers." Hiram laughs and I don't think I've ever blushed this long.

"Right." I say rather awkwardly. Rachel must have noticed my discomfort because she ushers her fathers off to the kitchen to check on dinner.

"You alright?" She asks, reaching for my hand. I intertwine our fingers and nod. She gives me a skeptical look but I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, trying to reassure her.

"It's rather nerve racking trying to convince the Berry men that I'm not crazy when I most certainly am." I tell her truthfully. I'm starting to believe that more and more everyday.

"Don't worry about anything. If you need saving just kick me under the table, not too hard though, and I'll save you."

"You'd throw yourself into the lions for me?"

"You can hardly consider my fathers lions, Quinn." She says chuckling.

"You're only saying that cause you're their cub." I tell her as I pull her into me. I place my hand under her chin and tilt her head up, momentarily stopping to look into her chocolate brown eyes, and bringing her lips to mine. I run my tongue along her soft bottom lip, but before she lets me deepen the kiss we hear a yell come from the kitchen.

"Dinner is on the table, girls."

You have got to be kidding me. If it's not Santana cock blocking then it's Brittany, if not Brittany, then Sam, or Kurt, or even Puck. And I thought they were my bros. Assholes. At least Brittany does it unintentionally while Santana does it just to piss me off. Now with Rachel's fathers added into the picture I'm most likely never going to get any ever again.

"Come on, daydreamer. We'll finish this later." She says pulling me into the dinning room.

She made vegan lasagna. It tastes different than regular lasagna but with all the supplements you can hardly tell. I don't place much on my plate and settle for a water. That will most likely be my best bet at not feeling sick.

Rachel strikes up and pleasant conversation with her dads, bringing me into it every now and again, but most of the time I just doze off. Rachel hasn't seen her fathers in a while and she deserves as much time catching up with them as possible. And anyway, I'm too busy concentrating on not scratching my skin off to pay attention.

"So, Quinn. What are your intentions with my daughter?" Leroy asks rather seriously, bringing me out of my thoughts. I look up from my plate to see his eyes already on me.

Why would you ask me that Leroy? Do you want me to panic and run out of here. See, if I was on meth I would have already constructed a well thought out answer instead of sitting in silence like an idiot.

"I- uh. I don't really have any. I just like being with her, really. I can't say that I've thought much about the future." I can almost feel the uncertainty radiating off of me.

But my answer is a lie, I just hope they don't see through it.

I have thought about a future with Rachel, but that's not something I'm willing to share at the family dinner right now. Plus, it's too soon to be talking about what may happen 5 years from now. Hell, I might be dead in 5 years.

"Dad, be nice. Don't worry, Quinn. He's just joking around." Rachel smiles, placing her hand over mine on top of the table.

"Yeah, Quinn. You can loosen up a little. We don't bite, unless it's each other." Leroy says winking at Hiram.

"Dad!" Rachel exclaims, bringing her hands up to cover my ears, as I erupt laughing.

"Oh honey, you know talking about these things makes Rachel uncomfortable." Hiram says leaning over and placing a kiss on Leroy's cheek.

"Gross." Rachel mutters but I can't help the smile that spreads on my face.

I wonder if all their family dinners are like this. So playful and carefree.

My family dinners use to consist of one of two things. One: My father talking about his perfect job, my mother about her perfect dinner, me about my perfect cheerios routine, and my sister about her perfect grades. The other types of dinners consisted of complete silence other than the clatter of forks against plates.

Come to think of it, that's how it always was in the Fabray household. Lies or complete silence.

"We saw Rachel on Broadway last night. Have you seen her, Quinn?" Hiram asks once the laughter dies down a little.

"Yeah, she's amazing. Has she always been this good?" I ask. Rachel and I haven't talked that much about our pasts. I know it's a hard subject but I hope we get there eventually.

"Of course! Her voice has matured over the years but she was always destined for this." Leroy smiles, patting Rachel on the shoulder.

"How about you, Quinn? What do you do?" Leroy asks. Boy, this man just really wants to keep this conversation on me, doesn't he?

"I'm a freelance photographer."

"Oh, that's impressive. Rachel doesn't have the patience to be behind a camera, she would much rather be in front of it." Hiram says with a smile.

"Which is where she belongs."

"Dad, daddy, though I complete agree with you two, stop." Rachel says laughing.

"Is our Rachel being modest?" Leroy asks with fake horror.

"Is this your work, Quinn?" Hiram asks laughing.

"She's always been like this, with me at least." I say looking to Rachel.

"On a more serious note, Rachel, Noah's mother wanted to know how he's doing." Hiram says, his tone getting rather serious.

"Uh, yeah. He's fine. Why?" She answers cautiously. And suddenly they both have my full undivided attention.

"He hasn't been returning her phone calls lately." Leroy says.

"How come?" Rachel asks curiously looking to me. I was with him yesterday. I would have told her, but he asked me not to. I hope she doesn't get upset at me about that. He was on the verge of tears when I walked into his apartment. He told me about how Beth wanted to see her real dad and he didn't want her to be introduced to him.

Not this him.

He doesn't want his daughter to meet Puck, the good for nothing junkie, but Noah, the man that would have given up anything to give his daughter the life she deserves.

"Well, his mom called him to tell him something about Beth and he just hung up after and didn't want to talk about it anymore." Leroy explains as he takes a sip of his drink. I feel his eyes on me and I feel my palms sweat.

I think he might be a little bit more observant than his rather innocent husband. I chose to ignore his eyes, for all I know he's just a parent evaluating his daughter's girlfriend. Or whatever we are.

That's another thing. We go on dates and we kiss and stuff but I don't know exactly what we are. We haven't defined ourselves and that's completely okay with me, I'm just curious as to whether or not she wants me to ask her or not. I guess I'll leave that for another time.

"By the way, is he still- you know?" Hiram asks curiously. I wonder for a brief second if Rachel is going to lie but she just nods.

"Poor boy. He had so much going for him, and then he just decided to throw his life away." Leroy sighs, shaking his head. Yup, they definitely don't know I use. That was a good judgment call on Rachel's part. She must have known her parents didn't really appreciate that lifestyle.

"I think that's hardly the case, dad." Rachel says.

"Rachel is only defending him cause they've been friends since forever." Hiram explains shrugging. He doesn't sound malicious though. I already like him.

"I'm defending him because you could never understand a drug addict unless you are one." Rachel says evenly her eyes never leaving mine. I feel a warmness spreading in my chest at the sight of her defending me and Puck to her fathers.

"It doesn't matter, Rachel. Once you go there, there is no real fixing things, don't you agree, Quinn?" Leroy asks and Rachel's eyes widen a bit. I feel all the color drain from my face as I tear my eyes from Rachel's to look at him.

He's looking at me questioningly and I wonder if he knows. He must have if he directed that question at me.

Is there any fixing it? Maybe fixing isn't the right word.

But you can always quit and turn your life around. I mean, look at Santana. She used in high school, granted it was heroin or meth, but still. She's happy, successful, and in love.

"You're right, Leroy." I say, looking over at the man. There is no going back and fixing all my wrongs. I know it and he knows it.

He leans back in his chair, rather satisfied with my answer. At least if he knows I'm a user, he also knows I'm honest.

"Excuse me." Rachel's voice breaks the silence as she lets go of my hand, slides out of her chair, and leaves the room. She doesn't look mad, or sad, there's no expression on her face and I think that scares me more than anything.

"Me too." I say casting an apologetic glance towards her fathers.

* * *

><p>She's not in the kitchen, so I walk into her room and find her leaning on the railing of her balcony. She must be cold. She's only wearing a short sleeve shirt.<p>

"Rach?" I ask quietly, not wanting to scare her. She doesn't move so I come up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder.

"There's no fixing it, huh? And here I thought that maybe, just fucking maybe- forget it." She mutters, her eyes still not meeting mine. She's just looking out at the city, and boy does it look beautiful at night. The city that never sleeps, that's what they call New York, right?

"Maybe what?"

"That maybe someday you'll get out of it." She sighs straightening her back. I hear her teeth chatter and I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. I try not to think about how my thumb is grazing the bottom of her breast. She leans back into me and I nuzzle my face into her hair, before resting in on the side of her head.

That's understandable. I know she's trying to be patient with me and trying to give me the strength to make the decision by myself. She must have realized that forcing me to quit, or stealing my drugs, or nagging me about it doesn't work, so she tried a different approach.

She wants it to be my choice. I think I want that too.

"Rachel that's not what I meant." I murmur into her ear.

"Then what did you mean?" She whispers.

"I meant that I can't fix the mistakes I've done in the past. The only thing I can do is start over with a clean slate."

"A clean slate sounds nice." She says.

"Oh and Rachel?" I whisper in her ear. She immediately turns around in my arms, looking into my eyes, before leaning her forehead against mine.

I find it hard to concentrate with her this close to me.

"Hmm?" She murmurs expectantly. I quickly lean down and place a kiss to her lips, I have to say I love our height difference.

"I would love to start over with you."


End file.
